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BBC to win back gammon football fans by replacing Lineker with a woman

THE BBC has apologised to right-wing football fans for employing a man with vaguely left-wing views and hopes this woman will make up for it. 

The corporation is to replace Gary Lineker, who baited decent Britons by not backing Brexit, with Sky presenter Kelly Cates who has never expressed any political opinions so will therefore be fine.

Norman Steele of Southampton said: “I suppose you think that’s very f**king clever.

“Finally we’re free of the scourge of Lineker, who openly supported positions held by only 48 per cent of the UK in 2016, and I was looking forward to watching Match of the Day again without a vomit bucket close at hand.

“But then, ignoring perfectly acceptable candidates like Martin Keown, Joey Barton and the late Ron Atkinson – what? He’s still alive? Even better – they appoint this Kelly, who you can tell just from the name.

“Apparently she’s Kenny Dalglish’s daughter, so nepo baby basically. Parachuted into the job. That’s why I’m against her appointment, not any other reason. Football’s not hereditary. Look at Darren Ferguson.”

He added: “I suppose I’ll bloody watch it. Despite my better instincts, women exert a terrible fascination over me.”

Young rich Britons discovering the joys of threatening pubs

YOUNG thrill-seeking drinkers, bored with gentrified gastropubs, are seeking out old-fashioned drinkeries that serve pints flavoured with intimidation and danger.

Twentysomethings are flocking to council estate pubs with clear windows, hostile regulars and barstaff that regard attempting to pay using a phone as a practical joke gone too far.

Jack Browne said: “Guinness drinking games are too mainstream. The new cool is hanging out down The Viking and braving f**ked-off looks from locals.

“I’ve already heard someone snort ‘posh wanker’ for ordering a pint of Landlord as ‘a Timmy T’, after which an ancient regular working as a self-appointed bouncer accosted me to ask ‘what the f**k I was playing at. It’s great.”

Friend Oli O’Connor agreed: “The carpets have been covered in blood and piss since the 1940s and there’s no music. Not in a Wetherspoons way, I think more because they all already have pounding rhythms going on from their throbbing forehead veins.

“Still, you have to admire them for being wild wreckheads at their age. They’re like zombies wanting to pull me limb from limb, which is well within the rules at places like this. I’ll have what they’re having!”

Landlady Carolyn Ryan says: “These types, with their signet rings and their f**king hair, we hate them. But their cash isn’t ironic.

“At least they’re already coked up when they get here, knowing the facilities are reserved for regulars only. But we’d all rather they just pissed off back to Surrey or a Greene King.”

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